Then and Again
by crushcrucify
Summary: My story is sad; one of humiliation and irony. I don't win in this one, I won't be a princess or a queen. I'm telling you this because I want you to know that not all stories have happy endings. I don't want you to delude yourself into thinking that even if you make terrible mistakes, you'll still have that happy ending to look forward to. You won't. Take it from someone who knows.
1. Chapter 1

_Humiliation. Extraterrestrial humiliation. That was all I'd been feeling for the past few days, going through the motions of life with a fake smile pasted on my face as my inner self screamed. I laughed and lied, saying I wasn't meant to be princess anyway, but that wasn't what really mattered._

 _I was finished. I'd as good as killed myself. I'd gotten attached, fallen down from my high pedestal, and it was all my fault. Who could've known that a prank - an idiotic prank at that - would bring such devastation? Not to others, but to my poor, weak heart? How much more can I take before I break down? Will I really be forced to attend the single most terrible event of my life?_

 _"Yes, really, I'm okay!"_

 _"I didn't want a crown."_

 _"I'm just glad to go back to living my normal life!"_

 _"I'm honestly very happy for them!"_

 _It seemed like sentences in those contexts were all I was saying these days, pasting my mask on, but vulnerably gazing out, just wanting for someone,_ _ **anyone**_ _, to see and understand. Why would they think this was okay? Why would they believe anything I said?_

 _"You're my friend America, and I would've been blind not to know it was you all along. I'm so very happy for you, you would've been who I'd have picked were I in Maxon's place."_

 _No. I'm not happy at all. I hate you. I detest you. Perhaps that makes me a bad person, but I wish it'd been you and not Celeste who died in that rebel attack. I would rewind the clock and make that happen. If only ... but I can't. Not because it's virtually impossible, but because I know how devastated Maxon would be with your death. He's so happy with you, and it hurts me so much, but as long as he's content, then so am I._

 _If I have any sense, I'll quickly let go and leave my love story to remain in the past. But I was never the sensible one out of all my siblings, was I? At this point, you'll be wanting to know who I am and how we ended up here. Fine. I'll oblige. It's a win-win situation anyway._

 _Hello. My name is Lizanne Carter, and this is my story._

* * *

 ** _AN: Hey ... don't kill me. I know, I know, I must be positively wicked for leaving you here. But this is ... you can call it a taster. I want to see how you folks react to this ... taster, prologue, whatever you wanna call it, before I continue._**

 ** _As you can tell, the main character doesn't really like America, and that kinda echoes my own feelings toward her. Yes, yes, I'm a bad fangirl, how can I hate the heroine, blah blah blah. It's just ... America makes things unnecessarily difficult. She's the typical 'I-don't-wanna-be-a-princess-leave-me-alone-I-have-a-star-crossed-lover-to-get-to' girl. I feel like the idea's been overdone, and please, PLEASE, don't take that as an insult toward Kiera Cass. She's an insanely talented writer and if she weren't I wouldn't be here, writing this story. I loooove the idea of the Selection and this whole dystopian country thing, I just don't like America. There. I said it. I don't like America._**

 ** _Now, here's the other thing. I'll be accepting requests for Selection girls. The form is down there and if you wanna submit, copy it down, fill it out and message me._**

 ** _*$ SELECTION FORM $*_**

 ** _Name:_**

 ** _Age:_**

 ** _Date of birth:_**

 ** _Province:_**

 ** _Parents:_**

 ** _Siblings(?):_**

 ** _Caste:_**

 ** _Occupation:_**

 ** _Personality:_**

 ** _Hobbies:_**

 ** _Languages spoken:_**

 ** _Physical description:_**

 ** _Love interest(?):_**

 ** _Thanks again! I hope you like this idea that's been floating around in my mind for a few months now ;)_**


	2. Chapter 2

_It all started with my love struck little sister. All her life, she'd wanted nothing more than to be a princess. Even though we were a family of Two's - one of the wealthiest, actually - Rose wanted a 'princess' in front of her name. Don't get me wrong, my sister is a sweet girl. She's kind, caring, and quite possibly our parents's favorite child. But since she was born, mom filled her head with delusions of grandeur, and how she would raise our family to supposed greatness, and this was the result._

 _So, anyway, I would say the actual beginning of this story is when Rose saw the letter from the palace ..._

* * *

"Cut! Cut, cut, cut! This is wrong! All wrong!" The director shouted for the seventieth time that day.

Everyone groaned and I thought some of the actors were actually going to cry, but they all composed themselves and let the makeup artists drag them away.

"Maybe you're being too harsh, George. This take was one of our best yet." Maria - one of our main PA's - stated gently, putting her hand on the directors shoulder.

"Don't tell me how to do my job, Maria." George snapped.

Maria sighed and drew back, turning to face me. I hadn't had the opportunity to film any scenes today and all I'd been doing was running lines, but that was getting tiring, especially since I had more important stuff to do at home. Like, for example, stop my destructive little sister from enrolling both herself and I in the upcoming Selection.

"You can go home, Liz. It doesn't seem like you're getting a chance today either." She sighed tiredly.

I looked up from my paper warily. "But, George ..."

"He won't mind. And if he does, I'll take the blame." She waved me off, shoving me into my dressing room.

"Great." I huffed, but if I weren't lying, I'd say I was happy for a chance to get off set early.

I quickly changed and wiped what meager makeup I had on. Grabbing my bag, I swept out of the room and set a brisk pace in walking toward the main door of the studio, hoping to avoid detection. Thankfully, I managed that and soon, my black convertible and I were rolling out of the parking.

When I got home, there was already a disaster in the works. I heard excited shrieking that one could only associate to Rose and my mother cooing happily. I shut my eyes, took a deep breath and braced myself.

 _'Okay, Liz, you can do this.'_

But I knew that assessment to be wrong as soon as I walked in. My eldest brother - James - lunged himself at me, weeping dramatically. His twin, Jacob, quickly followed and we were soon a squirming mess on the floor.

"Liz! Save us! Get this horrid monstrosity out of the house!" James faked crying.

"They've gone crazy, Liz! It's like a bloody plague! It's infecting all the girls!" Jacob whispered, mock terrified.

"James, Jacob, get off me." I said in a strained voice.

"Do you promise not to get infected?" James stated solemnly.

"Infected by what?!" I snapped.

"By the 'prince-plague'." Jacob replied, just as serious.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Just get off!" I hissed.

They knew enough my personality to understand that whenever I took that tone of voice, I meant business, so they quickly scrambled off.

"It's the Selection." James explained, helping me up. "They've sent the letters out. We got ours a few hours ago."

"Yeah. Apparently, the recent census confirmed that we've got two girls between the ages of 16 and 21 in this house, who can allegedly enroll in this stupid competition to win the prince's hand in marriage." Jacob snorted, looking slightly disgusted.

"You can imagine how excited mom and Rose are. Never mind that Rose turned sixteen, like, last week. Never mind that she's too young. Mom wants a princess, she wants to be a One." James continued, shaking his head, looking just as disgusted as his twin.

"They're going to make me enter, aren't they?" I sighed.

James and Jacob exchanged looks and I felt dread settle at the pit of my stomach.

"What?" I demanded. "What are you not telling me?"

"Well, lovely sister dearest, you see ..." Jacob laughed nervously.

"Yes? Tell me!" I insisted.

"Theyalreadyputyournamein." James blurted out.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

The twins took a deep breath, as if bracing themselves for an explosion.

"They already put your name in." They chorused together.

"Pardon me? Did I hear right? They already ... put my name in?!" I exclaimed.

"Uh ..." James scratched his head.

"Oh my god! How the hell ... how in every holy deity's name could you let them do that?!" I burst out angrily.

"We tried to stop her ..." Jacob started.

"But mom threatened to run us over with her car." James finished nervously.

"Threatened to ... I don't believe you idiots! You know she wouldn't actually do that, yeah?!" I yelled.

"She was dangling her car keys in her hands! She was deadly serious, Liz!" Jacob exclaimed.

"Lovely!" I threw my hands up in the air, storming up the stairs to my bed room.

* * *

 _Yes, I have very protective brothers, don't I? Hmph. As if. So yeah, you can sense my frustration after I came back home from a stressful day at work, only to discover my social climbing mother and poor, contaminated sister had not only put her name in the drawing, but mine as well! I heard maids say they'd only gotten the letter two hours before I arrived, it took approximately thirty minutes to fill both out and maybe ten to hand them in to the province office._

 _By my initial reaction, one would say I'd be eternally angry at them for doing this, but after holing myself up in my room for an hour and venting my anger at the bed, rationality took over and I told myself there'd be little to no chance that I'd even be selected. Sure, I was a Two and I probably had a better chance than most, but there were so many better, prettier girls in Angeles, that I'd almost managed to convince myself that I wouldn't be one of the thirty-five girls heading off for the palace in two weeks. Almost._

* * *

The fateful Friday finally arrived a week later. I'd been ignoring the pressure as best as I could, focusing on work, my hobbies (painting, singing, writing) and basically anything but the Selection.

At 8 o'clock sharp, I traipsed down the grand staircase in my pajamas, a bowl of popcorn in my hands. I went into the living room, plopping myself between James and Jacob. The 'Illea Capital Report' came on just as I sat down, beginning with a panoramic vision of the royal family. My mom and Rose squealed, while James, Jacob, dad and I glanced at each other wearily.

My mother and sister chattered all the way through the kings war report while dad strained his ears to listen. James and Jacob pulled out earbuds and started listening to their music and I munched on popcorn, pushing down the strained feeling in the pit of my stomach, trying to focus on the vision of elegance that was the queen.

I had met her once; she had come to the premiere of one of my most successful films, 'Illea Before China'. She was ethereally calming, her voice musical and soothing. In Illean society these were normally the people who got trampled on, but not the queen. Her presence was demanding, she was a different kind of authority, and it was just obvious how much the people loved her. It was because of Queen Amberly that rebellion had ceased twenty-something years ago. I strove to be like her everyday, but with the amount of infuriating people around me, that was a very hard task.

Finally, when Gavril Fadaye announced the first girl, everyone snapped to attention. I knew my fate would be settled in the first few seconds, and unconsciously, my breathing became labored as Gavril took his sweet time, making everything all the more dramatic.

"Lady Dorea Black of Allens, three!" He announced with flair.

Dorea Black looked like a nice girl. She had a heart shaped face, empathetic blue eyes and a slight smile on her lips. Prince Maxon, whose face was in a little box on the corner, smiled politely, though he didn't seem too into it.

My heart sped up and I closed my eyes.

 _'Please, please, no, no, no.'_ I pleaded, though I didn't know to whom I was begging.

"Lady Lizanne Carter of Angeles, two!" Gavril exclaimed with flair.

And my world ended. My mom screamed, my sister squealed, my dad coughed slightly and my brothers dropped their phones in shock. My eyes were still closed; I didn't need a picture to see how I looked, but I didn't see the royal family's reactions.

I imagined myself as how I'd been on the day I took the picture. My brown hair was styled into an elaborate French braid, promptly pulled into a ballerina bun (all mothers idea, I assure you). My clothes were pretty casual; I was wearing a new woolen blue sweater, my most comfortable pair of skinny jeans and nude flats. I had a golden chain around my neck with a tiny little charm in the shape of a crescent moon on it; a birthday gift from dad. I had a very bare minimum amount of makeup on, just enough that my cheeks were rosy and my lips a pale pink. I had my mysterious smile on, mostly to cover how upset I was at being forced into this.

 _'I looked beautiful.'_ I realized with dawning horror.

When I was getting ready for the picture, I'd done my best to look normal, unremarkable. In my anger and state of huffiness, I'd disregarded one of the first things dad had taught me.

"Natural beauty is one of the things that this world doesn't have in abundance, Liz; so whenever one is found, we must treasure it, value it above all else. What your mother and most of the other girls in our caste don't understand is that natural beauty is a rare gift. Everyone has it at first, but most ruin it with makeup and fake smiles. Natural beauty is revered, so if you want to be different, if you truly want to have the right sort of attention, make sure you get it by nurturing your beauty, avoiding makeup as much as you can."

That day brought a sight that I hadn't seen in a long time. For movies and modelling gigs, I always had makeup on. In fact, my face was slathered in it, and whenever you look at me in magazines, it's painfully obvious. I don't think anyone but my family and a select few friends have seen me without makeup, so this must've been a pleasant and intriguing surprise for viewers. Besides, without any real amount of modesty I can say, I really do look pretty without chemicals covering my face, and apparently the king thought so too (Oh, don't look at me like that! Everyone knows the candidates were handpicked! That's why there was such a little amount of girls from the lower castes.).

"Lizzy's going to be a princess!" I heard Rose shout happily in the background.

"Oh, my darling daughter, I always knew you were meant for more than acting!" My mother exclaimed, pulling me off the couch and smothering me in a hug.

I finally opened my eyes and stared right into my dads obsidian orbs. He was looking at me sadly, as if picturing his daughter with a crown and a royal title in front of her name.

"That isn't you." He mouthed.

I let out a quiet, shaky sob, detaching myself from mothers embrace. She didn't even really care, rambling about how richer our family was going to get and what good fortune we'd had.

"That's enough." James finally said as Jacob led me away from the mess. "Don't hound Liz. She's going to have enough of that with palace officials tomorrow."

And so my brothers took me to my room, helped me wear a new set of pajamas (the other one had turned greasy with popcorn butter) and tucked me in bed, talking reassuringly and promising to do whatever they could for me. I sobbed myself to sleep, dreaming of nightmarish palaces, horrible rebel attacks and blood and death.

* * *

 _I know what you're thinking. Irony at its finest, right? Who would've thought one of the most reluctant girls in the miserable competition would end up being heartbroken over a prince she wasn't supposed to love? Ha! I told you I don't take well to rules!_


End file.
